Armegeddon
by ChronicallyinFlaming
Summary: Written for the mass kink meme. Commander Shepard had unrequited romantic feelings towards Legion, only to watch as they pull a Robot Jesus to bring peace between the Geth and the Quarians. After this, Shepard decides to do the most reasonable thing possible: get shitfaced drunk in Purgatory and climb on a stage to perform Earth's classic 'I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing.'


**The Prompt:**_**  
**_

_**Shepard/Legion: Drunken Blubbering Karaoke post-Rannoch**_

_So Commander Shepard had (requited or unrequited) romantic feelings towards Legion, only to watch as they pull a Robot Jesus to bring peace between the Geth and the Quarians._

_After this, Shepard decides to do the most reasonable thing possible: get shitfaced drunk in Purgatory and climb on a stage to give their best inebriated rendition of the Earth Classic Aerosmith's_

_I Don't Wanna to Miss a Thing. During which of course they burst into tears in the first thirty seconds of off key singing yet insist on continuing anyways, belligerently clinging onto the karaoke microphone even as Aria's people understandably try to usher (then drag) Shepard off stage._

_A billion bonus points if Shepard says "I wish I were Bruce Willis" at one point in the story_

**The Fill:**_  
_

* * *

"It wasn't like A.J. He wasn't coming back. There's no wedding planned.

"You don't understand. I loved him, man. And he wasn't even a man. Not atomically correct. I don't think. Maybe he could still do stuff. With the hands. He was no Ben Affleck, don't get me wrong.

"But I still loved him. I don't know who would perform the wedding even. Tali might. I think he started to grow on her.

"Another round, please.

"He died, to save us from the war. To help fight the Reapers."

At this, the bartender and the only other person listening in nodded, understanding. Even if his face wasn't plastered everywhere, making his identity known throughout the galaxy, from his uniform you could tell Shepard was a solder. His story was not especially unique; all over the Citadel there were solders of some army mourning a friend or lover that had also joined.

If it hadn't been him, _the _John Shepard, in all his rugged, ragged glory, no one might have paid him a second glance.

"No one would have understood us. Well, maybe Admiral Xen. But these feelings were real. It didn't matter what platform he was. The_ feelings_ were real. He died wearing my armor."

Tears turned those solemn blue eyes wide.

Carefully, the bartender moved the open bottle of brandy away from Shepard.

This was the wrong place to mourn, as even in this inebriated state. A loud bar where you couldn't even hear yourself think was not a place for quiet contemplation on losing quite possibly the love of your life. All these people dancing away their troubles, or trying to, getting drunk and finding a warm person for the night…

All the bodies reminded him of Legion.

He would have liked it here, maybe. All the blues. That 'flashlight' set in the middle of his head would have looked especially bright in this place. Special, one amongst a million. "I never told him how I felt. But I think he knew. I think he loved me too. That's why he wore my breastplate. Our time together was too short. It wasn't fair, you know.

"Only him. There was only him."

There really was only one way to celebrate his love for the machine—no, he deserved to be referred to as an android, at the at least. He would let everyone know about his feelings, celebrate that love, and show he was not ashamed of how he felt. Everyone should know about Legion, and his brave sacrifice that had helped heal the galaxy. He was a fucking hero, and Shepard missed him more than anything. Right in his chest, he could feel the physical pain of losing Legion, a gap that couldn't be filled even with another glass of brandy.

"Is there a microphone around here?"

* * *

"Ahhh could stay awake just to hear you breathing. Watch you smile while. You are sleeping. While you're far away, and dreaming."

She kept her face blank, watching him. Knowing that aboard his ship there were at least a few members that would know where he was. Perhaps had stogies at another bar, keeping an eye on him. If so, they really needed to start moving in before Shepard hit the chorus. Saying that his singing voice was a off-key was like say saying that the sun was a little warm or the Shadow Broker was a little nosy or asari commandos were a little helpful. Not even the heavy music behind him covered a single cracking syllable.

At least he wasn't dancing.

Instead, he clutched the microphone and stand in one quivering, desperate grip as he leaned in.

You had to wonder how many women and men (regardless of species) would have killed to have Shepard serenade them. Even just their memory. Drunk enough to sing about his lost love, but not yet desperate enough to actually pay attention to any of the hungry glances thrown his way. Although, now, those stares were a mixture of pitying and disgust. Even worse than when Shepard would go onto the dance floor. People were standing up, and walking away.

Something twinged in Aria's chest, and it was something she'd felt only when seeing the Patriarch waiting for his death. A shred of pity for this man, who'd helped her and now was closing in on a breakdown after losing what might have been a crew member?

"I could spend my life in this sweet surrender." A broken sob. "I could stay lost in this moment forever. Well, every moment spent with you. Is a moment I treasure. I don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep. 'Caauuuuuuse I'd miss yooouuuu, baby."

Oh, goddess fuck, he was trying to hit the high notes.

There was a reason why she'd hidden that thing away. Whoever had given that microphone to Shepard was going to pay dearly. Shot and set on fire and thrown out of an airlock while still aflame.

"And I don't wanna miss a thing. B-be-because even when I dream of you. The sweetest dream would never do."

"Alright," Aria sighed. There came a point when even a man like Shepard could go no more, and finally broke. "Take him down."

The man openly wept, holding the microphone. "I would have died to save him. Just like Bruce Willis did. I wish I _was_ Bruce Willis."

"Take him down, _gently_."

Eventually, the ones that weren't smashed in the head by it managed to yank the stand out of his hands ("I just want to finish my song, that's all!"), and one of the bouncers wrapping an arm around his shuddering shoulders was not enough to calm the commander down. No one felt particularly bad when the stun gun came out, but all were surprised when it had no effect.

"Sir. Sir. Put the microphone down."

"I just want to finish my song!"

In time, after the concussion shots were used and the machine he used to sing with was destroyed in the fight, Shepard was physically, literally, dragged off the stage. When someone pried the microphone from his hands and turned it off, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Aria had the badly put-upon commander brought to her couch, his muscled form limp. She pinged the Normandy after a long moment.

"At least you made the Purgatory somewhat interesting, Shepard."

Even the man's snores were desperate as a shot vorcha.

"But maybe it's better off boring than dealing with your screeching. Throw him out into the elevator, boys, someone will pick him up eventually."


End file.
